Arda Unmarred
by Casey Toh
Summary: The Final Battle. The Second Alliance of Elves and Men (and the Powers). The fate of the World. Arda remade. Silmarillion-based fic. ***Challenge inside!!!***
1. Arda Unmarred

A/N: Some of the information is taken from "The Shaping of Middle-earth", the forth volume of the HoME series. They're mighty confusing for me, but I've tried to sort them out as best as I can; sorry if there are any mistakes. And in the Prophecy of Mandos given below, Fionwë son of Manwë was in later times changed to Eonwë Herald of Manwë, I think, so I'm using the latter, although the Prophecy is still the original one.

   This is not in the Silmarillion, but I thought that it'd make a good fic. Please R/R. Thanks.

Arda Unmarred 

   _"…Thus spake the Prophecy of Mandos, which he declared in Valmar at the judgment of the Gods, and the rumour of it was whispered among all the Elves of the West: when the world is old and the powers grow weary, then Morgoth shall come back through the Door out of the Timeless Night; and he shall destroy the Sun and the Moon, but Eärendel shall come upon him as a white flame and drive him from the airs. Then shall the last battle be gathered on the fields of Valinor. In that day Tulkas shall strive with Melko, and on his right shall stand Fionwë and on his left Túrin Turambar, son of Húrin, Conqueror of Fate; and it shall be the black sword of Túrin that deals unto Melko his death and final end; and so shall the children of Húrin and all Men be avenged._

_     Thereafter shall the Silmarils be recovered out of sea and earth and air; for Eärendel shall descend and yield up the flame that he hath in keeping. Then Fëanor shall bear the Three and yield them onto Yavanna Palúrien; and she will break them and with their fire rekindle the Two Trees, and a great light shall come forth; and the Mountains of Valinor shall be leveled, so that the light goes out over all the world. In that light the Gods will again grow young, and the Elves awake and all their dead arise, and the purpose of Ilúvatar be fulfilled concerning them. But of Men in that day the prophecy speaks not, save of Túrin only, and him it names among the Gods…" _ ~Mandos; The Quenta S19 (Q II), The Shaping of Middle-earth

   In the Third Age, when Morgoth had long since been imprisoned in the Timeless Night, Sauron the Maia had returned from his defeat by Isildur of the Númenoreans and reclaimed his kingship in Barad-dûr, in Mordor, but no bodily form could he take, for much of his power he had placed into the making of the One Ruling Ring in enslavement of the three races of Elves, Men and Dwarves. 

   And he sought in desperation the lost Ring that would restore his bodily form and raise him high above the Free Races of Arda, and mayhap high enough to challenge the Valar, the order by which he was once among the ranks and kindred of.

   By turn of Fate (or mayhap by the Powers), the Ring was found and taken by a Halfling to Imladris, in which the fate of it was decided. Aragorn Elessar Sauron challenged, for the Man had strove with the fallen Maia through the Palantíri, and Sauron was of the thought that the Man held the Ring in his keeping.

   Aragorn and Gandalf (Olórin in the ranks of the Maiar) had turned Sauron's wrath upon themselves so that the Halfling and his companion could go unmarked to Orodruin and destroy the Ring.

   It was cast into the fiery chasm of the earth, and unmade; Sauron fell and his spirit was scattered widely so that he should not gather himself, and with the unmaking of the Ring, the Third Age came to an end.

***

   About all the World are the Ilurambar, or Walls of the World. They are as ice and glass and steel, being above all imagination of the Children of Earth cold, transparent and hard. They cannot be seen, nor can they be passed, save by the Door of Night.

   And the World was fashioned thus at first with the Middle-earth highest in the middle, and fell away on either side into vast valleys, but rose again in the East and West and again fell away to the chasm at the edges.

   After the second battle with Morgoth in which the Herald of Manwë led the commandment, the earth was smote and its lands broken of its original symmetry so that it came to pass that the lands stretched from North to South, and there come the closest to the Walls of the World.

   To the East and West were regions of larger _Ilmen_ (1) closest above and below to the Earth; and above the Ilmen lay the _Vaiya_ (2), the Encircling Sea, broadest at the East and West, and narrowest in the North and South. And beyond the confines of the Walls of the World lay the Timeless Void, where Morgoth was imprisoned.

   Long he abode there, and gave no trouble more to Elves or Men, for Eärendel of Men—the father of Elrond the Half-elven and of Elros of the line of the great Númenoreans—guard the Door of Night unceasingly from his winged ship _Wingelot_. Yet at times even after Sauron's fall, Orodruin would burst into flames and pour out black fumes, and it is said that Morgoth's spirit would enter into the World, though how he came is not known, for the Door is guarded.

   For many ages since the War of the Rings and Sauron's spirit was dispersed, the Long Peace came; the Races of Middle-earth freed from the evil of Morgoth and Sauron, and the Gods welcomed the last of the Elves into Valinor and withdrew it completely from the world.

   Yet cast into the Void as he was, Morgoth halted not his unceasing labors to seek for ways in which to escape; the evil that he had sown in the hearts of Men could not fully be destroyed by the Valar, and at times conflict would arise between Men.

***

   No direction were there in the Void, no North, South, East or West, and as he wandered from the Door of Night he knew not where he stood. To the South of the World he came to, and sensed the thinness of the Ilmen and the Vaiya, and there attempted to cross into the World, but there the World was fashioned thus so that the lands dropped into chasms and water turned to ice, and no bridge was there to aid in his crossing.

   To the North (though he could not know it) Morgoth went as well, and as before in the South, he could not pass into the World, and in great exhaustion—for having spent much in his attempts to break through Vaiya—he returned to the Door of Night and there gathered his strength.

***

   In Middle-earth, Men flourished and grew, and spread ever to other lands; the Dwarves retreated back into their mines and delved ever deeper, for the deep places of the earth had been cleared of the foul creatures of Morgoth and Sauron; Halflings took ever to Bree and the Shire, but their people dwindled and their race diminished. 

   In Valinor the Elves were given rest and they did not fade away, but were of strength and fairness; their memory in Middle-earth were reduced to songs and legends, for none were beheld by any since ages past.

   The race of Men were sundered into two, for of many, the seeds of evil planted in them by Morgoth or Sauron were never wholly destroyed, and oft they would mar the earth in evil deeds; the other half were the Faithful, named after those loyal to the Valar in Númenor long ago, descended mainly from the line of Gondor and of Rohan, in which the memories of the valor of the Men of these two lands in the War of the Rings were ever preserved and passed down in truth. 

***

   As Morgoth gathered his strength, he strove ever against the Door of Night, and tested its strength; his own was not at its peak, yet aught made by any would harbor weaknesses, though oft unseen by those but the most perceptive.

   And he sensed the weakness of the Door, and ever and anon a part of his spirit would enter Middle-earth. His hate for the Faithful was great, and for the Elves in Valinor even greater, and it fostered and grew.

   He delved once again into the deep places of the earth, where even the Dwarves had not gone to, and there he awoke the servants he had hidden ere his defeat and did not reveal them, and more foul and terrible were they than the Balrogs, Vampire, Werewolves and Orcs of old. And there he commanded them to wait.

   He drew back into the Void, and his strength returned slowly, and he waited as he had done, and when he deemed that his strength was recovered, he prepared for war.

***

   From the Door of Night Morgoth issued from, for though the Door was made by the Valar, Morgoth was the brethren of Manwë and mightier in might than he, and he broke the Door down when the Sun waned and the Moon waxed, and when the two lights were mingled.

   In the West was the Door placed, so that as he came forth, he leapt upon the Sun and threw her down, though She scorched him, and night descended upon Valinor quicker than should have been, and the roar of the voice of Morgoth was heard throughout the World.

   His voice echoed even in the deep places, and his servants issued forth from the mines, and the Dwarves perished in surprise. Middle-earth was riddled in fire and waste, and Orcs ancient and new came; many Men fled, but Gondor and Rohan stood against the foul creatures.

   In Valinor, the Valar heard Morgoth's voice and knew that Doom hath come, and gathered all the Powers together. Of the Elves, they forgot not the Prophecy of Mandos, and were of the mind to hasten to Middle-earth to lend aid to the Secondborn.

   And Manwë gave his consent, and ships of the Teleri at Alqualondë (Swan-haven) were manned, and the Lord of the Valar sent a great wind to speed the ships eastward, and the swans of Ossë pulled them along, and many of the Valar and Maiar followed.

   From the West the Elves and Powers came forth, and their coming was fair and terrible, for the power and radiant of Valinor was in their faces, and the faithless fled before them, and joined the ranks of Morgoth's armies.

   Thus was formed the Second and greatest Alliance of Elves and Men, mightier than the First, and this was led by Elrond Half-elven, who fought alongside Erenion Gil-galad in the Second Age, for the _feä_ of those in Mandos Hall had not been clad back into their _hroä_, and many of the greatest Elven princes resided in the Halls of Waiting.

   And Morgoth assailed the Moon and wrestled with him, and overthrew the Moon, and day and night was of darkness but for the pale light of Varda's stars; and it seemed that he would prevail.

   But Eärendel steered Wingelot towards Morgoth, and upon the Man's brow was set a Silmaril that shone as a star of white flames in the darkness; the wings of the swans that drew Wingelot were of great span, and their wind forced Morgoth back, though it was spoken in aftertimes that Eärendel cast Morgoth from the sky only with the aid of the Silmaril, for it was a jewel hallowed and of great power.

   Tulkas stood upon Valinor in wait for Morgoth, and Eonwë Herald of Manwë stood at his right; his left was yet empty when they strove against Morgoth, and the strength and wrath of the fallen Vala was still great and terrible, so that the fair lands of Valinor were marred and still they could not throw him.

   Of the other Valar they went in haste from Valinor to strengthen the armies of their own, and made war upon the creatures of Morgoth, as they fought for the Elves in their awakening; Ulmo rose in all his might from the waters, and many of their enemies were drowned.

   Long the battles in Valinor and Middle-earth were fought, and while of the latter the creatures of Morgoth were destroyed and the surviving Men of darkness were taken as prisoners and held for Doom by Manwë, Tulkas and Eonwë strove yet unavailing against Morgoth, and they despaired ever of his fall.

   Yet when the hour in Valinor seemeth the darkest and the victory of Morgoth seemeth certain, so did a light come at the left of Tulkas's feet. The eyes of the Valar (even of Morgoth) were keen, and pierced the light of white there, and they perceived a Man standing.

   And a voice terrible and resounding came forth: "Too many evil hath thee done, Melkor of the Fallen Ainur, and deemed thee to be infallible. Doom hath long since been laid upon thee, but would thee sue for pardon again?"

   But Morgoth, turning to his thoughts of victory near and certain but for Tulkas and Eonwë, cast the pardon aside. "Melkor the Fallen, thou sayest, but Melkor the Mighty still. Should I sue for pardon before one so small?" And so saying, he raised his foot to crush the figure.

   Out of the light an arrow of darkness flew, as dark as the night that had fallen, and it pierced Morgoth in his heart, so that he gasped and fell, and Valinor and the World trembled at his fall.

   Tulkas and Eonwë gazed in wonderment at the figure before them, and their eyes now saw clearly the face of Túrin Turambar, the Conqueror of Fate, so that they knew that half of the Prophecy of Mandos hath come to pass, that Morgoth was dealt the death strike by _Mormegil _(named by the Elves) of Túrin, the Black Sword that was in his own tongue named _Gurtholfin_.

***

   In Valinor was then gathered all the Elves and Men that remained, and Eärendel was summoned from the air and the _feä_ of Feänor clad in _hroä_ by Mandos, and Eärendel took from his brow the Silmaril and gave up its keeping.

   And the Valar drew forth their powers and broke Middle-earth asunder, and two eagles upon great winds bore the Silmarils of water and fire to Valinor, for the Powers protected the Blessed Land still, and Feänor as he held the Three repented of his deeds and yielded them onto Yavanna.

   Yavanna, blessing the Silmarils, broke them and spilled their fire onto the Two Trees long dead, and life awoke in Telperion and Laurelin, and the mingling of the two great lights were greater than the Sun, and Manwë threw down the mountains of Valinor so that the light shone far, and the Valar and Maiar laughed as their strength returned and the foulest deed of Morgoth was amended. 

   The _feä_ of all the Elves in Mandos Hall were summoned and clad again in bodily form, and there, Ilúvatar himself came forth. "Long has the Ainur and the Firstborn struggled against Melkor, and unceasing life was given to them. Rest they found in Mandos Hall, yet deeper weariness hath they. Now I call ye back to me, to return to the Void, and Eternal Rest."

   "Nay, Lord, for Men are of our kin, and we should enter the Eternal Rest together," some Elves said.

   And the form of Ilúvatar smiled at his Children, and he said: "Túrin Turambar the Prophecy nameth amongst the Gods, but of Secondborn is he." He was silent for a time. "Arda Marred shall be Unmarred, and the Fate of Firstborn changed, and the Fate of Men that is known to none be fulfilled."

***

   The One returned the Valar and Firstborn to him, and destroyed their _hroä_; of the _feä_ of Mortals he summoned forth—the forefathers and descendents alike—and placed all his Children into the Deep Sleep.

   And he turned his thoughts to Arda, and broke it asunder, withdrawing the Imperishable Flame and the light of the Silmarils. From the pieces of Arda Destroyed he formed a new Arda, and he placed the light of the Silmarils and the Imperishable Flame at the heart of Arda Remade.

   The _feä _of Ainur, Firstborn and Secondborn alike he merged in their sleep, and placed them into new _hroä_; and set them into the new world. And He rested.

***

   They awoke when the lights of the Sun and the Moon were mingled, and gazed in wonderment around them, for the air was fresh, the trees green and the world young.

   And a word came to them ere any speech did, and they named unto themselves: _Man_, and used that name in aftertimes.

   So it came to pass that the Prophecy of Mandos concerning all were changed and fulfilled; and the older Doom that the Valar, Firstborn and Secondborn shall again occupy Arda Unmarred was made true and more beautiful.

~finis~

(1) _Ilmen_—Place of light. The region above the air, than which it is thinner and more clear. Here only the stars and Moon and Sun can fly. 

(2)_Vaiya_—fold, envelope. In nature like to water, but less buoyant than air and surrounding the Ilmen; also named the Encircling Ocean/Sea.


	2. CHALLENGE!!!

Challenge 

   This is only my version of the Prophecy. I would like to issue the challenge of writing your own version of the Prophecy (the Prophecy of Mandos given at the start should be enough of a guideline and springboard).

   Please review and tell me in the review (or e-mail me) if you would like to take up this challenge. I'll place each fic up using the chapter format so that readers can read all versions "at once". If you do not like this idea, please tell me.

Rules: 1) Write only in the "one chapter" format.

          2) Use the Prophecy of Mandos (given) as a guideline—for characters mentioned specifically, you cannot change what   

               are required of them (as in the Prophecy).

          3) Include your FF.net penname, or if you don't have an account, the name you want to use.

   Please e-mail me the finalized version ASAP! Try this; it'd be fun to see a few different POVs for this! ^^ Need any help (in informations, questions etc.) just e-mail me!     


	3. Dagor Dagorath --Challenge fic 1

After the Dagor Dagorath

By Cirdan

            Ulmo arose from the waters in his form great and terrible.  Cirdan fell to his knees before the presence of the Great Vala, Lord of the Waters.

            "The world has been broken in the Dagor Dagorath, as long foretold by the Doomsman of the Valar," said Ulmo.  "The Silmarils can now be recovered from their deep places in the world.  They shall be broken, and with their fire, the Light of the Two Trees shall be rekindled and the world shall be made young again.  The Eldar are tied to Arda in a way that the Ainur are not and must be the ones to regain the Silmarils from the hearts of Arda.  You have been chosen, Cirdan of Amanlonde, to retrieve the Silmaril which was cast into the Sea by Maglor."

            "I obey," Cirdan said, "though I do not know if I can fulfill this task."

            "I will lend you my strength."  Ulmo spoke more about the Silmarils and then left his vassal to determine the fate of Arda.

---

            Cirdan came to a house that was an odd mix of stone and trees, not like the Noldorin dwellings or even the Sindarin dwellings of old, but an architecture that was unique even in Aman.  It was similar to Menegroth or Nargothrond in that the base of the house was stone, but trees and plants flourished all around the house, coming in through shaped holes in the walls and roofs.  The house might've been an artistic abomination if not for the carvings of plant-life in the stones themselves and overlay of leaves made from emerald and jade with bark of silver and gold.  Cirdan shook his head.  It was the type of place he would never live in, especially because it was situated between the Forests of Orome and the Mountains of Aule, much too far from the Sea.  Cirdan rapped on the main entrance of the house where dwelt Legolas the Elf and Gimli the Dwarf.

            The door opened, but Cirdan had to look down to see his host.  He had been expecting this, of course.  "Hail Gimli the Dwarf, son of Gloin."  Cirdan himself had escorted Gimli with the last Elves of Middle Earth to Valinor after the death of King Elessar and Queen Arwen.  The reason that Gimli had been allowed to come to Aman had never been apparent until now.

            "Welcome Lord Shipwright."  Gimli opened the door wide and gestured for him to enter.

            "We are honored by your unexpected visit," Legolas said as he joined them in the guest room.

            Legolas was still ageless and fair of face.  Gimli was no older than before, for he had been reborn from stone and thrived in his close proximity to Aule the Smith, who had created the race of Dwarves, but he was nowhere near as fair as the tall and slender Elf beside him.  The two hardly noticed their differences anymore though, and they dwelt for long periods of time alone, away from other Elves, to avoid reminding Gimli of his isolation.

            "I have little time," Cirdan said after a moment.  "You must have heard of the End of the World even here in your hermitage?"

            "We have indeed, and we rejoice that Morgoth is defeated," Legolas said.

            "There will be little rejoicing if the world is lost," Cirdan said.  "In order to fulfill the Prophecy of Mandos, the Silmarils must be recovered so that they can be broken and their Light released to heal all of Arda."

            "The Silmarils," Gimli breathed.  During his long stay in Aman, he had learned of the legendary jewels.  The sign of one such Jewel of Feanor had even been above the very Gates of Moria.

            Cirdan nodded.  "One Silmaril was cast into the very cracks of the earth by Maedhros.  As the last remaining members of the Fellowship, the two of you have been chosen to search the fires of the earth for the Silmaril, just as Frodo entered Orodruin so long ago.  Gimli, you are a Child of the Earth.  Aule will guide you.  Seek out the Silmaril, and return it to the Valar soon, or all will be lost, and in the End, Arda will not be remade."

            "But the Silmaril was lost in Middle Earth.  We have no way to travel there," Legolas said.

            "And even if we did, still we would be searching for a needle in a haystack, for the world has been nigh destroyed and no one can travel those lands now," Gimli said.

            "You will do what you must," Cirdan said.  "I will take you to Middle Earth, for I also have an errand there.  Prepare now for your journey and meet me at the Havens of Aman."  Cirdan rose, making it clear that there was to be no deliberating.

            Legolas and Gimli looked to each other and then shrugged.  "The Dwarves will not be left out of the Song of the End of the World," Gimli said.  "I will do my part and retrieve the Silmaril."

            "And I will be with you," said Legolas.

---

            Gimli and Legolas endured many trials in order to recover the Silmaril that had been cast into a fiery crack of the earth.  In the end, they found it.  The Silmaril was beautiful, bright, and unmarred by the fires, for nothing in Arda could hurt its diamond-like surface.  Gimli had thought the gem of Galadriel's hair the most beautiful jewel in the world, and he had passed it on to his descendants, who had kept it even after he had departed from the world to the Blessed Realm.  He now had to concede that the Silmaril of legend was fairer than even the golden locks of Galadriel, but that did not diminish his love for her.  Together, Gimli and Legolas won their way back to the surface of the earth.

            Cirdan was waiting for them.  He had also sought long and hard for a Silmaril, for his was in the depths of the Seas where even Osse and Uinen dared not go.  He too brought forth a Silmaril, this one from the waters of Arda.  He sailed to the West with Gimli and Legolas, and when they returned to Aman, they yielded their Silmarils to Ulmo and Aule.  Earendil, who had first warned the Valar of the escape of Morgoth, brought his Silmaril from the air and submitted it to Manwe.

            Feanor was released from the Halls of Mandos and summoned to the Ring of Doom.

            "Long ago, Yavanna asked for the Light of the Trees that was locked in the Silmarils, for with that Light, she would recall life to the Trees and heal the hurts of the world," Manwe said.  "I ask you again for that Light, Feanor son of Finwe.  Will you grant what she would ask?"

            The world was quiet and awaited the answer of Feanor.  In the Ring of Doom, time itself seemed to stop.  Arda, hastening towards the Final End, hung in balance.

            At last, Feanor spoke, "My answer has not changed.  For the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish but once only, and in that deed, his heart shall rest.  It may be that I can unlock my jewels, and if I must break them, I shall break my heart."

            "Think carefully about your answer, O Noldo!" cried Tulkas.  "You have been released from Mandos to do this very deed!"

            Feanor turned to Tulkas, and his piercing eyes quieted the Vala.  The sacred fire of Feanor, which Iluvatar had set within him, was now grown so great that he seemed like one of the Aratar.  Manwe waited, knowing that the Child of Iluvatar had not yet spoken his fill.

            "I have come but I do not choose now to do what I came to do.  I will not do this deed."  Feanor took the three Silmarils in his arms, and they flared to life with the Light set within them.  They did not burn him, though many thought that the hallowed jewels would because he was no longer clean of heart as he had been in the Days of Bliss.  Feanor hushed the Silmarils and rocked them gently as he would a child.  "It is not for me to decide the fate of another, and the Silmarils have a life of their own.  The decision belongs to them."

            The Silmarils shone brightly amidst the Ending World, and all those present saw in their minds a vision of the Great Light rekindling the Two Trees of Valinor and rejuvenating the Elves, the Ainur, and the very world of Arda.

            Manwe nodded.  "The Silmarils have spoken."

            Feanor bowed his head, and tears streamed forth from his eyes.  "Although they are willing, I cannot bear to break the children of my labor.  The Silmarils are stronger than I in this matter.  I beg that my eldest son do this deed in my stead, and I grant him such a right."

            Thus it came to pass that Maedhros unlocked the jewels and rekindled the very life in Arda.  The world was made young again, and the purpose of Iluvatar as spoken in the Prophecy of Mandos was fulfilled.


	4. The Return Of The Minstrel--Challenge fi...

The Return of the Minstrel

**by Soledad**

Disclaimer: Not mine, all Tolkien's, except the typos and the weird grammar. Sue me, and you get them all. Satisfied?

Rating: G, I guess

**Author's apologies:**

This piece has been written to answer Casey's Dagor Dagorath challenge, though I'm not sure that it fulfills all the challenge demands. But since my muse has abandoned me in all other areas, I was glad to get at least _some _inspiration. And gasp I even managed to keep it short, this time. Quite an achievement, if you know my usual writing style.

I hope this stands alone – though knowing my ongoing tale "Innocence'' and the 4th chapter of my Glorfindel-story might help.

The direct quotes are from ''The Shaping of Middle-earth''. I kept the older names like ''Gods'' and Fionwë… to a certain point. There are references to ''Smith of Wootton Major'', but those are not quoted directly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_"About all the World are the Ilurambar, or Walls of the World. They are as ice and glass and steel, being above all imaginations of the Children of Earth – cold, transparent, and hard. They cannot be seen, nor can they be passed, save by the Door of Night.''_ (p. 245.)

_''Morgoth is thrust through the Door of Night into the outer dark beyond the Walls of the World, and a guard set for ever on that Door. The lies that he sowed in the hearts of Men and Elves do not die, _[however],_ and cannot all be slain by the Gods but live on and bring much evil even to this day. Some also say that secretly Morgoth or his black shadow or spirit in spite of the Valar creeps back over the Walls of the World in the North and East and visits the world...''_ (p. 40.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Elven minstrel stands upon the desolate shore, beside the Sea of Windless Storms, looking forwards above the waves that roll silently out of Unlight like snow-clad hills to the long strands – forwards, where, beyond the Sea, the Door of Night is said to be found, at the utmost edge of the Black Marshes. He is waiting for the white ships to return from the battles that are fought there… have been fought there, ever since Morgoth was cast out into the Outer Dark.

He can remember this dreary place very well, though it has been uncounted Ages ago, in the forgotten time of his youth long gone, that he was brought here in a vision for the first time of his life. Now he is old, even for an Elf, though his face, noble and sad and beautiful beyond imagination, looks young like that of a still-growing elfling. Yet his long hair, silky and unbraided, is white like the freshly fallen snow, and his wide, sea-hued eyes are haunted, and there is wisdom and sorrow in them, but no life.

Once he has been the most innocent of Elves and danced through life with a smile on his face like the sunlight and a song on his lips that could bring dead trees to blossom. Once he knew joys and sorrows and, above all else, love, that bound together body and heart and soul and made them as one; and he carried a light in his heart that eased the burdens of all those around him and could light up a rainy day.

Yet when the day came and his innocence was marred and the light in his heart quenched, he came over the Sea to seek healing, as that first vision had told him to do. He went to Mandos Halls voluntarily, for not even the Blessed Realm was able to rekindle the fire in his heart, and the song that filled his very being was brought to silence.

He lost count of how long it had been. Ever since then, he seems to have been standing upon these shores, waiting for the ships to return – waiting for the one he missed most, more even than his music, to return to him. Yet no peace has come to his heart in all these times, only even more sorrow, and the ships have not come.

He knows, one day they shall arrive. He saw it in his first vision, gifted upon him by Elentári, the White Queen of Stars, and once they have come, he will be able to leave this bleak place and follow the returning warriors into the echoing hills with the one he is waiting for. Then he shall be able to sing again.

One day, it will happen. Until then, he has to remain here, and wait, and watch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_''When the World is much older, and the Gods weary, Morgoth will come back through the Door, and the last battle of all will be fought. Fionwë will fight Morgoth on the plain of Valinor, and the spirit of Túrin shall be beside him; it shall be Túrin who with his black sword will slay Morgoth; and thus the children of Húrin shall be avenged.''_ (p. 40.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Time does not exist upon the shores of the Soundless Sea. The minstrel grows not weary on his lonely watch post. He even stops remembering at some point along his endless guardianship.

What has been, does not matter any more.

What is coming, is not yet there. Only the endless string of singular moments, like a pearl necklace laid out alongside the shore.

Only in those moments does he exist.

Before and after, there is nothing. Only watchfulness and solitude.

He nearly misses the particular moment when the great white ship casts high upon the land, the waters falling back in foam without a sound.

Never during his whole guardianship has there been any sound.

He has come to understand that this is part of his penalty. For what could be harder upon a born minstrel than this soundless place?

Yet he understands the necessity to lay his very heart and soul bare in the silence.

To clean the wounds before they can heal.

The warriors on the ship are tall and powerful and terrible in their strong beauty, and there seems to be no end to their numbers. Their swords are shining and their spear-heads are glittering in the ever-same grey twilight of these shores, and there is a piercing light in their keen eyes like white fire.

Fionwë, who is leading their endless rows, is mighty as the hills, and the light of Varda's stars is gleaming in his eyes. On his side an other great warrior marches, wearing a shining armour, damascened with cunning _true-gold_, and the likeness of the rayed Sun is sparkling upon his breast. His dark blue eyes are burning like living flames.

The minstrel knows he should remember this other warrior, but his memories are fading and confused – and this is not the one he is here to wait for.

So he remains silent and watches them motionlessly.

One by one, the Elven warriors leave the ship, marching as one after their leaders with firm, determined strides, their hard faces turned towards the hills. Then suddenly they lift up their great, ringing voices in a song of infinite sadness, and the shear beauty of it pierces the heart of the minstrel like an arrow. He fells upon his face in the wet, grey sand, his whole body shaking with soundless sobs.

He sees not as the host stops on its way, all the faces turning to him, and a warrior in the last row returns to his side. 'Tis a tall, dark-haired Elf, clad in simple grey garb and an unadorned mail-shirt, his clear, grey eyes clouded with loneliness and sorrow. He bends down to the minstrel, touching the ghostly white tresses hesitatingly.

"Linwë?(1)'', he asks, uncertain of himself.

For in his sorrow-filled heart he keeps the image of a much younger Elf, one who had pale golden hair, shining like pure moonlight.

His voice, once-beloved and still oh so familiar, reaches the minstrel on the far-away place he has retired so long ago. A barren and very lonely place, inside of his own heart.

He rose to his knees and looks up to the face of the warrior, hesitating between hope and disbelief.

"You…'' his voice, once the sweetest upon the face of Arda, is hoarse from not having it used so very long; "you have come…?''

The warrior shakes his head with a sad smile.

"I have always been here, _melme_. It was you who was not able to see me. Come with me now. 'Tis time for you to leave this place.''

The minstrel takes the proffered hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet obediently, yet his eyes are still wary.

"Where are we going?'' he asks.

The warrior looks at him gravely.

" To the Last Battle. Now the time has come for Arda to be re-made – or utterly destroyed, and we all with her. This is the day we have been waiting for since the Day of Awakening.''

"I cannot go with you,'' the minstrel says sadly. ''Never shall I touch a weapon again. Once done has brought me here for Ages uncounted. I cannot do that. Not even if the fate of Arda and all our fates depend on it. I just cannot.''

"Nor do we ask you to do such thing,'' an other voice, clear and very powerful, says, and Fionwë – nay, Eönwë he is called in these day, the minstrel begins to remember – comes back to see him in the eyes.

"Once, in the days of your youth, you have been taught a Song,'' he continues, willing him to remember more. "A Song of great power and triumph. We need you to come with us and sing it for us; to fill our hearts with strength and with the love for Arda and to ease our burdens; for only thus can we hope to defend the Darkness for ever.''

The minstrel looks into the all-knowing eyes of Eönwë, mightiest of the Maiar, and all of a sudden the memories of his previous life return to him.

Yet, miraculously, they hurt him no more. For finally, after uncounted thousands of years, his heart is truly healed, and the light is returned to his life.

He looks at his bondmate, filled with love and joy, in spite of all that still might be waiting for them, for he remembers the words of Varda in his vision, and a smile begins to shine on his face, and he says:

"I shall follow you every where, _indolírë_.(2) Just as I have sworn on the day of our bonding.''

And now he can remember the Great Song he heard in that vision, the Song that has been hidden in the most secret places of his heart, almost forgotten, and he lifts up his voice that is hoarse no more but sweet and clear and beautiful as it used to be in the days of his youth, and the far hills are echoing with it, making it sound even stronger and clearer.

And suddenly the silently rolling waves of the Soundless Sea began to murmur again, and the cries of the seagulls can be heard above the shores, sweet and wild and powerful like a summer storm.

The Silence has finally been broken.

The Second Music begins with the single voice of a pure heart healed and re-made.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_"In those days the Silmarils shall be recovered from sea and earth and air, and Maidros shall break them and Palúrien with their fire rekindle the Two Trees and the great light shall come forth again, and the Mountains of Valinor shall be levelled so that it goes over the World, and Gods and Elves and Men shall grow young again, and all their dead awake…''_ (pp. 40-41.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In a secret garden of Arde Re-made, the last member of the ancient and holy order of Elven minstrels is resting in the arms of his beloved. Long has been their way to peaceful reunion – long and hard and full of sorrows, and Morgoth had to be slain and the World re-shaped ere they found together again. Yet they _are_ together again, and naught but the whitened hair of the minstrel reminds of the hardships they had to endure.

And in the waking dreams of his kin the minstrel softly sings of things and joys yet to come, weaving his own dreams together with the ever-present melody of the Second Music.

Eönwë, mightiest of the Maiar, looks down fondly upon them from the Taniquetil, where he dwells under Manwë's roof with his own bondmate. The gift of farsight(3) enables him to watch over his beloved Elves, even in these days of peace, and he readily shares the lovely sight with the golden Elf through their bond.

_Though calling Glorfindel simply an Elf might not be correct,_ he thinks distractedly, and is rewarded with a warm mental laughter from his beloved.

"After all those Ages, you still are worried about semantics?'' Glorfindel chides gently, and rises to leave the house.

Laurelin the Re-born is about to awake again. A new dawn is about to come in the Blessed Realm, and he wants to watch it in the soft rain of the Second Music that is gently falling all over the World.

End

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**End notes:**

(1) A supposed Quenya version for Lindir's name. Was originally a rejected name for Thingol. Sorry, I couldn't come up with anything better.

(2) "Heartsong'' in Quenya (deep bows of gratitude to Artanis). In "Innocence,'' it was Lindir's pet name for Erestor.

(3) Well, erm… I don't know whether the Maiar possess such a thing… But again, I can't remember having read that they do _not_. g


	5. Twilight and Rebirth--Challenge fic 3

A/N I don't own anything, so don't sue. Also, I know that there's a bit of a controversy over whether Nienna was the sister of Manwë and Melkor, but I've decided that she was (it's in Morgoth's Ring). Other than that, I hope everything is according to the prophecy.

______________________________________________________________  
**Twilight and Rebirth**

by Tasarinan

And in that time when the world is old, and the Valar weary, was the patience of Morgoth rewarded, as the Black Foe overcame the strength of the Walls of the World, and entered once more unto the Circles of the World. Gathering his fell servants to him, this army of darkness marched on Valinor, leaving anguish and devastation in its wake. Orodruin, dormant since the fall of Sauron, once more spilled its deadly fires upon those who dared approach it, and those hardiest of men who had tamed the dread lands of Mordor in the centuries since Sauron's fall, fled in terror from the rivers of fire and veiled skies. Over the northernmost ridges of the Ephel Duath this dread horde advanced, and though valiant Men took up arms to hinder them, yet their efforts were in vain, for the servants of Morgoth were many, and the losses inflicted by these Men insignificant. Ever north these foul legions crept, and ever more devastating was their wrath. The Ents and Huorns of Fangorn challenged Morgoth, and though the forest was littered with the bodies of the slain, still the noble tree herders were forced to abjure the battle to save their flocks from the fires that Morgoth set about them. The Elves had long since abandoned Middle Earth, and were little more that legend to all but the most learned scholars of Minas Tirth, the greatest city of men. Yet Morgoth felt the echo of their presence, and the golden woods that men knew as Lórien were laid waste by his armies.  
Morgoth paused on that place which centuries ago had been known as the Naith of Lórien, and was pleased with the destruction his armies had wrought, yet his black heart burned to take vengeance on those who had cast him out. Therefore he unsparingly drove his armies on, their ranks swelled by the orcs who had lain hidden in the darkness of Moria. The faint echo of the songs of the Elves of Imladris was forever drowned by the trampling feet of the armies, for though Morgoth had not known of its creation, still he sensed the beauty of the valley, and in his hatred of Elvenkind, destroyed it utterly. In his descent unto the Circles of the World, Morgoth had seen that there was no longer a bridge of ice to the Undying Lands, so when his legions reached Lindon, though it pained him to abide in the Havens of the Elves, yet he rested. In base mockery of the works of the Teleri, the orcs built a fleet of black ships, and when all was in readiness this evil flotilla began its crossing to Aman. Long was that crossing, hindered as it was by the winds of Manwë and the wrath of Ulmo, whose hands tore the vessels asunder. Yet the greater part of Morgoth's fleet survived these assaults, and past the silent city of Alqualondë, and the deserted Tol Eressëa, the Black Fleet came to rest at the foot of the Calacirya. As the horde set foot upon the shore, still there were no sounds, nor armies to hinder them, and Morgoth gave a great cry of triumph that he was unhindered, and thus victorious. Yet his heart misgave him, and as he led his armies to the crest of the rise, spread out on the plains before him was the last Host of the West, stretching from north to south in an unbroken line. Sad were their countenances, yet stern their hearts as Elves and Maiar bore weapons in the ultimate defence of Valinor. Three there were who led this defence, and as Morgoth signalled his armies to attack, he slowly walked towards these chieftains of Valinor. As battle raged about them, there was a calm in which Morgoth regarded his opponents, one of each of the kindred abiding in Aman.   
  
   Tulkas of the Valar stepped forward. "Though we are become weary, yet we are not weak. Herein lies thy doom, Morgoth."   
   So saying, Tulkas wrestled Morgoth to the ground. Eonwë, herald of Manwë, and representative of the Maiar stood by, holding the chain Angainor as the battle of the Valar unfolded before him. The forces of darkness were being decimated by the Host of the West, though Elves and Maiar were also numbered amongst the fallen. Yet perilous though their efforts were, they were as naught compared to the ceaseless grappling of Tulkas and Morgoth. For days did their sparring continue, until by some unspoken agreement, the combatants stepped apart. Morgoth surveyed the battlefields of Aman, now littered with the slain, and his ire arose as he perceived that his army had failed.   
   "Is then Mandos incorrect?" he bellowed at the three who stood before him. "Am I then to grapple with Tulkas until the end of Arda? Where is Túrin?"   
   "Túrin Turambar is dead," spake Eonwë.   
   The terrible laughter of Morgoth spilled forth into the silence of the battlefield. "How then can he deal me the death blow, as Mandos promised?"   
   The eyes of the three looked above Morgoth, and the evil Vala turned to find the vast watery form of Ulmo towering above him. Ulmo's hand opened slowly, and the son of Húrin stepped onto the plains of Valinor, the Mormegil in his hand.   
   "Long have I nurtured this Man," spake the Lord of the Waters, "and now in fulfillment of the prophecy, the bane of Morgoth is come."   
   Ulmo retreated to the sea as Túrin stepped forward. Grim was his expression, and no utterance made he as he lifted his black sword Gurthang to his forehead in silent salute. Morgoth unsheathed his sword, though he made no salute.   
   As the swords crossed, Morgoth spoke. "I fear not the son as I feared not the father. The might of man is as nothing to me." Then he gave his full attention to the battle and spoke no more.   
   Swift was Morgoth to strike and Túrin's strategy became defensive. Almost it seemed to the onlookers that Gurthang moved independently of Túrin, for when the man misstepped, still the strike of Morgoth was parried. For many hours did the fight continue, and Morgoth was unscathed. "How then shall the Prophecy be fulfilled?" he sneered. "No blade of mortal man could injure me!"   
   Túrin paused, and once more raised his sword in salute. A ray of sunlight illuminated the warrior, and the blade that he bore, but the answering radiance dazzled Morgoth, and in that brief moment of weakness did the Mormegil strike the death-blow. Morgoth looked down at the sword protruding from his chest, and realisation dawned, as the light of a Silmaril, set upon the pommel of Gurthang, blinded his dying moments. The blade was withdrawn, and the body of the Black Foe crumbled into ash. A sudden gust of wind blew the remains into the sea.   
   Túrin nodded, and turned to face the three. He held the sword upon his palms and presented it to Eonwë, who took the weapon solemnly. Túrin bowed deeply before turning away from the three and walking back to the sea, his form fading with every step. 

   "Victory!" roared Tulkas.   
   "Victory," repeated Ingwë, the Vanyarin High King of the Elves, his sad eyes sweeping the battlefield.   
   Eonwë was silent, though his eyes were drawn northwards. The Valar and Valier were walking towards them, Manwë and Nienna weeping openly for the loss of their brother.   
   "Now it is done, as was prophesied, and the marring of Arda may now be undone," spake Manwë.   
   "Yet how shall we begin?" asked Yavanna, in a sorrowing voice. "Aman has been tainted by this army, and death brought once more unto the Undying Lands. How can this be undone?"   
   "It is now the time of healing, for Arda, and all who dwell therein," said Varda. "Let us begin with that which first was tainted by Melkor's wrath. Telperion and Laurelin must shine once more."   
   "Eärendil has been summoned," spoke Manwë, and the Valar raised up their eyes to regard the stately descent of Vingilot.   
   "Yet how can the third be retrieved? Was it not cast into a chasm of fire?" asked Aulë.   
   "Yea," answered Mandos. "But the retrieval of the third Silmaril lies in the hands of its maker." At the wondering look of the others, Mandos turned westwards. "From the Halls of Mandos do I summon Fëanor to our presence, to hear our judgment." Soft was the voice of Mandos, yet all heard his words. The nobles of Aman stood upon the bloody battlefield in silent vigil, and though naught was seen, yet the fiery spirit of the son of Finwë became apparent to the assembled company. Mandos raised a hand. "Curufinwë Fëanor, a choice was once offered unto you, to deliver those jewels made by your craft into the hands of Yavanna, to sustain and heal the Trees of Valinor. Your choice was made void by the actions of Morgoth, so once more this choice is offered to you. Will you yield the Silmarils?"   
   "Long have I dwelt in the Halls of Mandos," quoth the spirit, "and much have I learned from the souls who shared my internment. My right to decide the fate of the Silmarils has long since faded."   
   "You are the creator of the jewels," spake Aulë. "This right - this burden cannot be revoked. Speak now, Fëanor. Would you yield the jewels to rekindle the trees?"   
   The spirit considered before responding. "I have come to learn that everything which has existence in Arda has suffered the taint of Morgoth. If aught that I have wrought can aid in effacing the Marring, small will I consider the price."   
   "Though you yield to our persuasion, know that I cannot allow your father to join you," warned Mandos. "The sacrifice of Finwë, freely made, permits Míriel and Indis to live. The rehousing of Finwë would doom one of his wives, and is contrary to our law."   
   "I have accepted my father's sacrifice, as I have accepted the necessity of my own," answered the spirit.   
   Mandos nodded. "It is the judgment of Námo Mandos that Fëanor son of Finwë be released from my Halls, and clad once more in bodily raiment."   
   Manwë and Varda raised their hands and bowed their heads. A great light shone before them, and within that light a figure grew until the radiance was eclipsed, and Fëanor stood before them. His eyes were filled with wonder as he stared about him. "Where then are the jewels?" asked Fëanor.   
   "One is borne within the blade that Eonwë holds," responded Yavanna, "and the second is bound to the brow of Eärendil, who approaches." At her gesture, Fëanor looked up, and cried out in wonder at the dazzling white ship descending toward them from above.   
   Mandos laid a hand on Fëanor's shoulder. "The final Silmaril is confined within the bosom of the earth. He who retrieves the last jewel must content with the mighty fires of Orodruin." His eyes were stern as they regarded the newly embodied Noldo, who blenched at Mandos' words. "Though your fëa is rehoused, yet you must undergo the cleansing fire to be shriven of your heinous transgressions. What we ask is not beyond the scope of your power, for your fëa is strong, and can sustain your hröa through this ordeal."   
   Fëanor bowed his head. "I will abide by the promise I made, to yield the Silmarils to Yavanna."   
   "So be it," intoned Mandos.

   Eärendil bore his kinsman aboard Vingilot as they journeyed towards Mordor. Silent was that ship, for Eärendil was accustomed to solitude, and Elwing did not accompany her husband on this final voyage in the darkness 'twixt Sun and Moon. The Valar had decreed that Men should not glimpse the shining Foam Flower, so the winds of Manwë bore the Elves to Orodruin in the dark of night. Sad was the gaze of Eärendil as he beheld the destruction wrought by Morgoth, yet he was hopeful that these evil scars would be cleansed by the healing light of the Trees of which his mother had sung to him. Fëanor his kinsman was amazed at the changing of the world, for Beleriand, whence he had led the Noldor rebellion, was no more, and it seemed to his eye that Men were abroad where ere he looked, as they had not been during his first embodiment. Though the skies were filled with ash dark clouds, yet the Elves could see the glow of Orodruin's fires as they neared their destination, and all of Eärendil's skill was required to negotiate the cruel peaks of the Ephel Duath. Vingilot came to rest some distance from the blazing mountain, and though his heart misgave him, yet the son of Finwë leapt from the vessel and dived into the bubbling cauldron of red hot lava.

Exquisite agonies tore at him, as his fëa strove to maintain his hröa against the deadly heat and poisonous gases. Blinded and tortured, the Spirit of Fire floundered in the deeps of the mountain, his quest forgotten in his desperate attempt to sustain his hröa. Further and deeper into the flames he fell, and just as he reached the limit of his endurance, his blindness was illuminated, and his eyes beheld the final Silmaril, which blazed as the Sun. His hand closed upon the jewel, and in the midst of all of the pain, Fëanor felt the jewel leave its fiery imprint upon him. Long he fought against the fires of Orodruin, and oft did he sink unto the depths until, naked and blazing as a new Sun, the Spirit of Fire was expelled from the mountain, and thrown into the skies. Cold winds converged upon the comet as Fëanor flew through the darkness and though the winds lashed him with their veriest strengths, still Fëanor came to rest upon the deck of Vingilot, and Eärendil drew the shining vessel away as Orodruin exploded, raining stone and fire upon the dark lands over which it had towered. Fëanor lay unmoving upon the deck of Eärendil's ship, the deck about him forever blackened and burnt. Eärendil laid a cloak upon his kinsman, yet it burnt away into nothing. He saw that although the hröa of Fëanor was unblemished despite his fiery torture, the shape of the Silmaril was scarred silver upon his hand, which clutched the jewel tightly. The journey continued, and Fëanor remained still, until the shadow of Vingilot fell over Belegaer. In one sudden movement, Fëanor arose, and leapt into the sea, and though Eärendil halted the vessel to seek his kinsman, yet there was naught to be seen, for a vast cloud had arisen at the meeting of fire and water. Suddenly there came a great bird of the West flapping towards Vingilot on snowy wings, and Elwing stepped upon the ship, folding the wings of her craft behind her. "Why do you tarry?" she asked her husband.   
   "I await the return of Fëanor," declared Eärendil, though Elwing shook her head.   
   "He is beyond our aid. Come. The Valar await us on Ezellohar."

   The winds bore the Foam Flower unto Aman, where all of the Elves, Maiar and Valar were gathered at the withered skeletons of the trees, in the darkness. The Sun and Moon had been recalled, and Ithil stood by Telperion, cradling the silver flower, even as the radiant Anar bore the golden fruit of Laurelin. Elwing unbound the Silmaril from the brow of her husband before they approached Ezellohar, and stood by Maedhros, son of Fëanor, who once more carried a Silmaril of his father's craft, removed from the sword Gurthang, which was girt at his side.   
   "I offer you the sword of Turin your kinsman, Eärendil," spake Maedhros gravely.   
   Eärendil inclined his head. "I accept, and offer you the jewel of your father."   
   Maedhros ungirted the Mormegil, and Eärendil took it, raising the blade to his forehead in salute. Elwing, daughter of Dior Thingol's heir, placed the jewel into the hands of the tall son of Fëanor, who bowed. The assembly was silent.   
And from the east a great wave arose, and the Ulumúri sounded in the silence as the Lord of the Waters emerged, attended by Ossë and Uinen. In his arms Ulmo bore a bundle swathed in white, which he set upon the ground before joining his kin. The white cloak was thrown back, and Fëanor stepped forward, cradling the final Silmaril. "I have been shriven in the fires of earth, purified by the wrath of the air, and cleansed in the waters of Belegaer," he declared, as he approached the green mound. "Yet I am not healed. In the light of the trees will all our hurts be healed, and I offer these jewels, as I promised, to rekindle their light."   
   Fëanor paused by Maedhros, who bore the Silmarils to his father their maker, and for a moment his light became too great to look upon, before it faded to a fiery glow. Onwards he walked until he stood before Yavanna, and bowing, offered the Silmarils to the Valië. Yavanna inclined her head as Fëanor stepped back to stand beside Maedhros his son and Míriel his mother, who had left the House of Vairë to honour her son. The Valië of the Earth turned to regard the long dead trees, and lifted her voice in song. Achingly sweet was that melody, for it told of love and loss, yet it seemed to the listeners that their hearts were glad to hear it. The tears of Nienna fell upon Ezellohar as Yavanna's song continued, and Ithil stood before Telperion, bearing its last flower at its crown. His voice joined Yavanna's, providing a poignant counterpoint. Anar bore the fruit of Laurelin unto the form of the golden tree, and added a third theme to the song. Suddenly melody spilled forth from all who were there assembled, and this music was long and beautiful, for there was no discord, and the harmonies were countless. Still more singers joined their song, as distant voices from Middle Earth were heard, the rumble of the Ents, the earthy tones of the dwarves, and the innumerable voices of men, swelling from the lowest to the highest. The harmonies of all twined and grew, and joined with others before separating, and twining once more. In the midst of the song, Yavanna began to glow, and she set down the Silmarils at the foot of the trees. Though the light was dazzling, still she could see a single tendril stretching towards the flower of Telperion, and a silver light filtered down through each branch of the tree until dark green shoots were seen growing rapidly. Blossoms burst open before the singers, and silver light bathed the assembly as the song ceased, save one voice. Nienna's tears ended as Telperion waxed, and new growth was perceived in Laurelin the golden, and still the sole voice continued, swelling to a great crescendo as the Pelóri Mountains sank silently, allowing the silver light of Telperion to roll out into the world. Silence returned as the song ceased.

"Hearken now unto my words, o' my children, and know that ye are the third theme of thy Father, and blessed, and through thy harmonies thou art become the ultimate theme. In each melody lies the part thou shalt play in this new accord, and though ye yet understand it not, in time thou shalt come to comprehend thy part in thy Father's song. Fear not! For all ye accomplish but adds to the glory of this music. Go ye then unto the world and fulfil thy song, as I love thee, and enjoy the bliss that is Arda Unmarred."

Laurelin waxed as Telperion waned, and Arda Unmarred was hallowed by the mingled gold and silver light of the Trees Healed.

fëa – soul  
hröa - body


	6. Of The End Of Days--Challenge fic 4

Of the End Of Days

By Daughter of Fëanor

Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkein's work, or characters, or Mandos' prophecies. None of the characters are mine. The only thing that I own is a little bit of this plotline, which was JRRT's idea in the first place.

_"…Thus spake the Prophecy of Mandos, which he declared in Valmar at the judgment of the Gods, and the rumour of it was whispered among all the Elves of the West: when the world is old and the powers grow weary, then Morgoth shall come back through the Door out of the Timeless Night; and he shall destroy the Sun and the Moon, but Eärendel shall come upon him as a white flame and drive him from the airs. Then shall the last battle be gathered on the fields of Valinor. In that day Tulkas shall strive with Melko, and on his right shall stand Fionwë and on his left Túrin Turambar, son of Húrin, Conqueror of Fate; and it shall be the black sword of Túrin that deals unto Melko his death and final end; and so shall the children of Húrin and all Men be avenged._

_Thereafter shall the Silmarils be recovered out of sea and earth and air; for Eärendel shall descend and yield up the flame that he hath in keeping. Then Fëanor shall bear the Three and yield them onto Yavanna Palúrien; and she will break them and with their fire rekindle the Two Trees, and a great light shall come forth; and the Mountains of Valinor shall be leveled, so that the light goes out over all the world. In that light the Gods will again grow young, and the Elves awake and all their dead arise, and the purpose of Ilúvatar be fulfilled concerning them. But of Men in that day the prophecy speaks not, save of Túrin only, and him it names among the Gods…"_ ~Mandos; The Quenta S19 (Q II), The Shaping of Middle-earth

****************************************************************

Of the End of Days

Of the Last Battle, Fëanaro knew little. Long had he abode in the Halls of Mandos, where few now remained, among them himself and all but one of his sons, the Ever-cursed, they called themselves. Nothing he knew of the dealings of Arda, being wrapped in a cloak of his own thoughts.

Long ago had he repented of his reckless deeds, and berated himself endlessly for his folly at Alqualondë, and cursed himself more harshly than had ever his kin. He would not speak to his sons, and gathered no news of Arda, so certain was he that never would he be released from Mandos' timeless halls. He preferred rather to sit apart and reflect on the follies of his short life.

But even a coward cannot run forever, he knew, and when once more he was approached by his sons, he felt in his heart that he must not refuse them yet again. And well that he admitted them, for the Valar had sent his sons to beg him to aid in the Restoration of Arda Unmarred.

And Fëanaro hearkened to their words and the plea of the Valar, and he perceived that at long last he might atone for his rebellion against the Valar in ages long passed. So the Valar again clad him in _hro_ä, and his sons also, for they were not to have no part in these great deeds.

They were told how Melkor had once again entered the world: by his persevering malice, he had at last woken again his servants old, the Orcs, and the Uruloki, the Valaraukar and the Vampires, and Gorthaur the Abominable, and all the evil creatures in the World hearkened to his call, and they wrought great ruin in Arda. And Melkor the Morgoth thrust himself against the Door of Night, and being in the beginning the mightiest of the Ainur, and had witnessed and aided in the Shaping of Arda, he broke the door, and came again at length into the World.

And his first act was to send his servants against the Sun, and the Valaraukar came in great force against her, and they broke the vessel in which the last light of Laurelin was carried, and it fell from the sky. And they smote the Moon, and the light of Telperion was destroyed, and Tilion fought, with Arien by his side, and they were aided by Ëarendil, who came out of the Night with the Silmaril on his brow. Together, they struck down the Valaraukar, and slew many, and wounded more. But Melkor escaped the assault of Valinor, and fled to Endor, where he raised a great Army, and Gorthaur was again in command.

The remnants of Men in Endor fought valiantly against the forces of Melkor, but alas, he was returned to the peak of his might, more dreadful even than he had been in Elder days before the ruin of Beleriand. The waning forces of Men were swiftly overwhelmed, and none of the great race of the Secondborn would have remained, but for the coming of the Army of Valinor.

For the Valar had, as has been told, returned to the sons of Fëanaro their_ hroäs_, and now they led the Noldor of Valinor in battle, for it was not Fëanaro's fate ever to bear arms again. And they fought beside Ingwë and Ingil of the Vanyar, and Elwë Singollo and his brother Olwë of the Teleri, who had swiftly readied many ships for the passage to Endor. And the coming of the Army of the West renewed hope in the last remnants of Men, and they fought together, and the Children of Illuvatar were again united. And they drove out the forces of Melkor, and Gorthaur fled in terror, and his foul creatures ran about like leaves in the wind.

But in the West, battle reigned even in the Blessed Realm. For Melkor had waited until the great Army of the West had departed, and Valinor less protected, and then he made his great assault. And the Valar and the few Elves that remained in Valinor were taken at unawares, and Melkor and his demons destroyed Tirion upon Tun, the fairest city of the Noldor, and Alqualondë, the Haven of the Swan, and came even to Valimar. And there Tulkas strode to meet Melkor, and they fought. Long they fought, and none could gain the upper hand. And Eonowë, herald of Manwë fought upon Tulkas' right, but Melkor was mightier than both.

And as those in Valinor began to lose hope, there came out of the West a great fleet from the Sea of Night. For as the Army of Valinor had come to the aid of Men in the hour of their defeat, so Illuvatar had sent a great host of the Secondborn to aid The Blessed Realm. And leading them were all the great leaders of old, and their head were Beren Erchamion, and Turin Turambar, and Elessar Telcontar, last of the race of Numenor long diminished in Arda.

While Beren and Elessar led their host to the defeat of Melkor's demons, Turambar went alone to the deserted city of Valimar, where Tulkas and Melkor fought. And they were amazed, but Melkor lifted his fist as if to crush the Man. Then did Turambar spring aside, and he hewed at Melkor, and slew the foul body in which he walked. Thus was the House of Hador avenged for their misfortune and torment at the hands of the Morgoth. But the work of Restoration was not done.

For now all was night, as it had been in Endor before the Sun and moon, and only the stars of Varda Tintallë gave light to the World, for Morgoth had not dared to come against her or her works. And the World was Broken, and the Silmarils retrieved from their long homes by Earendil. And then Fëanaro was sent for, and the Valar asked again of him if he would surrender to them the Silmarils, and break them, and give Light to the World once more. And this time Fëanaro did not deny to them their request, but he said to them:

"To thee shall I willingly surrender these works of my hand, for I repent of my folly, and would repair the hurts I have caused. But these things are dear to me, and I cannot bear to break them. Therefore I ask that this duty fall to my eldest son, for by my deeds he was the most hurt, yet was the only one who dared to rebel against them." *

And the Valar took pity on Fëanaro, and the Silmarilli were given unto Maidros**. And he broke them, and gave them up to Yavanna Kementari***, and she rekindled the Two Trees with their light, and a great blaze of Light spread out over Valinor. And the Valar leveled the Mountains of Valinor, and the Light was no longer contained, but spread to every corner of Arda. And the Army of the West, that remained in Endor pursuing the remnants of Melkor's armies beheld the Light, and they rejoiced, and as they watched, the World grew young again, and the Ainur became again youthful, and the Eldar relived of their cares, and the Eldar that had abode in the Halls of Mandos for years beyond count arose again, and their life was renewed, and all rejoiced. 

And then it was that Eru Illuvatar spoke to the Ainur, and to his other Children through them, and he said to them:

"Now hast ye achieved all that ye were meant to do, and the Wrong of Melkor banished forever. And the Secondborn hath achieved greatness far beyond that which ye expected, but that they were from the beginning meant to do. And Arda hath been Broken and Remade, and Light hath been restored. Now sing together before me, if you so will it, and the Second Music of the Children of Eru shall begin"

And all of Eru's Children sang before him, the Ainur and the Eldar and the Secondborn alike. Then the themes of Illuvatar were played aright, and took being in the moment of their utterance, for all then understood fully his intent in their part, and each knew the comprehension of each, and Illuvatar gave to their thoughts the Secret Fire, being well pleased. And the strains of the Second Music fell about the World, and it was Unmarred. And after a time - none knew how long it was, for the Music was timeless- the Music slowed, and ceased, and the Children of Eru looked again on Arda, and saw that it was Remade and Unmarred, and the Light of the Trees flowed out over the World. And the Children of Eru shall forever live together in harmony, within the Bliss of Arda Remade. 

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NOTES

*It was pointed out to me that Maglor also rebelled against Fëanor's commands: he tried to persuade Maedhros not to steal the last two Silmarils. But since Fëanor has been in seclusion since before then, he wouldn't necessarily know this.

**I use the older version of Maedhros' name, because it fits in with the period when the prophecy was written, and Tolkein was still using that spelling. Besides, I like it.

***I know that in the prophecy above, it says that Yavanna breaks the Silmarils. But it was also said: ''In those days the Silmarils shall be recovered from sea and earth and air, and Maidros shall break them and Palúrien with their fire rekindle the Two Trees and the great light shall come forth again, and the Mountains of Valinor shall be levelled so that it goes over the World, and Gods and Elves and Men shall grow young again, and all their dead awake...'' (The Shaping of Middle-Earth, pp. 40-41.)

I choose to go with this version, mainly because Maedhros is my favorite character, and frankly, I think he deserves it.

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THE END


End file.
